


Alpha

by Proclaim_Thy_Warrior_Soul



Series: How The Mighty Fall [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Phil Coulson, Blood and Gore, Clint Needs a Hug, Clint's not as good at hiding things as he seems to think, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Movie Spoilers, Not Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Compliant, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Prequel, Psychological Horror, Team Bonding, Whump, coulson!lives;, what's wrong with Coulson?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-15 21:03:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2243418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Proclaim_Thy_Warrior_Soul/pseuds/Proclaim_Thy_Warrior_Soul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint sees Phil everywhere he looks, which should probably make sense seeing as they work together.</p><p>Except for the small fact that Phil is dead. Because Loki killed him.</p><p>Four months ago...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dragons Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to Leap Of Faith (How The Mighty Fall)

# ALPHA

# Prologue: Dragons Fly

 

"Stark, you've got two on your six - _move!_ "

 

Iron Man didn't bother to slow as he twisted midair, two perfectly aimed repulsor blasts taking out his curious pursuers with little effort. "Thanks, Hawkass."

 

Clint smirked but didn't respond, loosing an arrow that dropped four more of the oversized Dragonflies that had swarmed Brooklyn in the late hours of the afternoon. Whilst they weren't necessarily dangerous (an escaped experiment from a nearby breeding lab, apparently), they _were_ enormous and definitely a nuisance. One that had the still-traumatised citizens of New York screaming for the Avengers to save their asses.

 

Clint wasn't complaining. It beat lurking around SHIELD HQ like a bad smell any day of the week, especially now that he'd been demoted to Level 2 pending the outcome of the World Security Council's investigation into Loki's attack. 

 

_Persona non grata, thy name is Clint Barton._

 

At least he still had the Avengers Initiative. They couldn't take that away from him. _Not without a fight._

 

"Hey, Legolas? D'you think Jane and Thor would like a steroid-enhanced super bug as a wedding gift?" Stark's playful voice shook Barton from his morose thoughts. "They could name it Fluffy."

 

Clint watched with a frown as the Hulk batted the offending Dragonfly into the side of the Brooklyn Public Library. The resulting orange splatter of bug goo caused the deadly assassin to wrinkle his face in disgust. "If they're not Hulk-proof, they definitely won't withstand the Mighty Thor, Tin Man..."

 

Tony hummed in consideration. "Point taken. Back to the drawing board, then."

 

A soft click warned Clint that someone had switched their comms over to his private line.

 

"Do you know who I think would absolutely _loathe_ a pet Dragonfly?" came the lilt of Natasha's amused voice in his ear despite her being 200ft below him as she worked alongside Captain America in clearing the streets of curious civillians. The red-head didn't bother waiting for his reply. "Deputy Director Hill."

 

Clint huffed out a laugh, taking aim and loosing his arrow in one quick motion at seven feet of Dragonfly hovering too close to Captain America's position. Maria Hill's fear of all things creepy-crawly was officially the _Worst Kept Secret_ around SHIELD HQ.

 

"We should get her one," Nat suggested innocently.

 

It was a tempting idea... _damn, was it tempting_...but no. Clint didn't need to give Hill any further ammunition against him. She had more than enough already.

 

"Tasha, _honey_ ," Clint drawled, middle finger pushing his sunglasses back up onto his nose as Iron Man swooped past with a sloppy salute. He switched the pair of them back onto the team's comms. "I think you've been spending too much time with Stark. You're actually starting to sound like him."

 

" _Screw you_ , Barton."

 

"See? _Exactly_ like him, Tasha," he whined playfully. "The bajillionaire-Playboy's been trying to get into my pants all week. I feel so... _dirty._ "

 

"Ha! In your _dreams_ , Feathers," came the billionaire's cheerful reply from a few blocks away where he could be seen herding Dragonflies towards the Hulk. The Black Widow's answering chuckle of amusement was familiar and soothing and Clint let the feeling wash over him as he returned his attention to the city around him.

 

"How's things looking from up there, Hawkeye?"

 

The voice of Captain America was suddenly in his ear, putting an end to any further larking around. Clint ignored the instinct to stand at attention, allowing a full sweep of the surrounding area before he offered up his report. "Two targets left, Cap, but I can have them out of the way in less than four seconds."

 

"Roger that, Hawkeye. Take the shot."

 

Clint froze.

 

Swallowing against the lump in his throat at the all too familiar words - words that should have belonged to another voice entirely - the archer sucked in a shuddering breath and nocked his arrow. "Affirmative, Cap."

 

The remaining two Dragonflies never knew what hit them.

 

"And the skies are clear," Iron Man declared with a whoop of delight. "Party at my place; you're all invited! Except you, Hulk. You're all covered in bug guts and... _Oh my God_ , are you eating it, Green Bean? _No! Bad Hulk!_ "

 

"Everyone on the ground in ten," came the commanding voice of Steve Rogers. Clint could see him glaring daggers at Tony from his position beside Natasha, shield clutched firmly in one hand. "We've got clean-up and debrief before..." Steve's voice faltered as he caught the Hulk stuffing a fistful of orange goo in his mouth. "Oh... _no._ That's just..."

 

Natasha gave Rogers a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as she turned to walk away but Clint caught her failed effort at stifling her laughter.

 

"Capsicle's no longer invited," Tony sing-songed with glee. "I can't decide who's more green right now; him or the Hulk! It's too close to call."

 

Lowering his bow, Clint stepped back from the very edge of the building, shaking his head in amusement. _So, apparently this was his life now..._

 

"Hey, Pigeon. You need a lift down?"

 

Clint's sharp eyes found Tony as he came to land next to the Black Widow, face-plate raised as he waggled his eyebrows in Clint's general direction. 

 

"Nope, I'm good." The walk would give him the chance to clear his head. "Thanks, though." Without another word, Iron Man nodded and started up a conversation with Natasha.

 

Clint slung his bow over one shoulder, eyes lingering on each member of his team and over the spectacular view of Brooklyn one last time before he turned to head for the fire exit.

 

The sharp blow to the back of his skull was the last thing he felt before the darkness swallowed him.

 

 


	2. Static

Natasha ignored Stark's inane chatter from beside her with practised ease, her attention drawn instead to Steve as he wiped at the goo splattering his shield with the sleeve of his uniform. It was a lost cause, but she wasn't going to be the one to tell him that. The small frown he tried and failed miserably to disguise had already caught the attention of the swiftly emerging paparazzi; camera flashes, smart phones and microphones appearing from seemingly nowhere.

 

"He looks like a lost puppy," Tony snorted in her ear, flicking his head in Steve's direction. Natasha didn't answer him, fingers running lightly over her Widow's Bite with a pointed look. Tony took the threat as it was intended, offering a playfully flirty wink before surging forward to take centre stage and effortlessly blocking the reporters from their distracted team leader.

 

The low rumble of a contented Hulk at her back helped to stifle the nervous energy that had settled in the pit of Natasha's stomach; the one that came from needing to know her team were safe and still in one piece. As soon as Clint made it to the ground, Nat knew she could silence it completely. _For the time being, at least._

 

Speaking of her wayward partner... "Are you taking the scenic route today, Barton?"

 

The crackle of silence over the comms was her only reply until a burst of feedback ripped through her skull, causing her to stumble back into the green wall of Hulk's body.

 

" _What the-?_ "

 

" _Ow!_ "

 

It was over in a heartbeat, but the mirrored reactions from Steve and Tony confirmed Natasha's dawning suspicion as she righted herself on two feet.

 

They needed to find Clint. _Now_.

 

Steve's eyes met with Natasha and Tony's, their communication silent yet unmistakably apparent. Despite the newspapers only recently starting to classify them as a team, they were familiar enough with each other now that they didn't need words to formulate a plan of action. A shared look was plenty.

 

With a nod, Steve flipped the goo-covered shield onto his back and ran for the building Clint should have been exiting at a fierce pace.

 

Tony slammed his faceplate shut with more force than necessary, cutting off the crowd of reporters as he started his thrusters and lifted off into the sky. He was already a good few feet from the ground when he suddenly found himself with an armful of the Black Widow. At any other time, Tony would have happily seized the opportunity for a sleazy comment, or three, but he was too preoccupied with imagining the trouble Barton had gotten himself into this time.

 

Ordering Jarvis to put more power into the thrusters, Tony adjusted his grip on the red-head in his arms and headed for the roof.

 

*A*V*E*N*G*E*R*S*

 

 


	3. Wraith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint awoke to the familiar sensation of pain, instincts screaming at him to move even as his brain remained foggy on the reasoning behind it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day earlier than planned... And yet, still very late :-/

 

Clint awoke to the familiar sensation of pain, instincts screaming at him to  _move_  even as his brain remained foggy on the reasoning behind it. Never one to ignore his gut, the assassin forced open heavy eyelids as he rolled away from the presence of his unknown attacker, one hand reaching for the blade hidden inside his armoured vest as he caught a glimpse of his bow and quiver, arrows scattered too far out of reach.

 

 

The sickening lurch as his concussed brain registered the edge of the building a fraction too late brought everything back in a wave of clarity, even as he tried to stall his momentum.

 

_The roof. Mutated dragonflies. His team._

 

Forgoing his hold on the knife, Clint choked on a curse as he scrabbled desperately to grab hold of something,  _anything_ , to delay his fall over the edge, but instead, excruciating pain stole the breath from his lungs. 

 

Vision whiting out for the duration of a stuttered heartbeat, Clint was glad when unconsciousness followed once more.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Just a taste, a small taste... He won't know; I won't tell Him... Just a taste..._

 

Consciousness returned for a second time, and with it came pure, unadulterated  _terror_. 

 

Clint Barton knew fear intimately; got up close and personal with it on an almost regular basis. After all, being human on a team of badass superheroes was like wearing a placard that shouted,  _hey, hella easy target this way. Please form an orderly queue_. If he had to document every kidnapping, ass-kicking or blackmail attempt since publicly joining the Avengers a little over three months ago (and don't even get him started on the crap his fellow SHIELD agents still pulled in retaliation for his part in Loki's attempt at taking over the world...), then he might as well just never leave the limited safety of Stark's Tower.

 

But that was fear, and fear was nothing but irritating white noise in comparison to the nauseating terror that stole the air from his lungs right there and then.

 

The creature, because, yeah, despite its decidedly feminine form it was  _definitely a creature_ , was inside his damn brain; her raspy voice causing his one remaining hearing aid to screech loudly at the otherworldly interference even though he could still hear the words perfectly through the deafening feedback.

 

Barton was a better actor than people gave him credit for. He'd easily fooled the SHIELD shrinks into thinking he was over Loki's mind control gig. Fury was a little more difficult, and Hill? Well, she'd never been his greatest fan since the very beginning... Securing his place on the Avengers had been, all things considered, pretty damned simple. His teammates were surprisingly forgiving of his sins when they had a multitude of their own to be fretting over. So Clint had put on his best ' _mind-controlled by a tantrum-throwing god, but I'm okay'_ face and had gone about business as usual. But that didn't mean he was okay.

 

Not by a long shot. 

 

Only Tasha really knew. About the nightmares and of all the times he'd clawed himself awake from memories of what he'd accomplished under Loki's thrall; the way he punished himself for every new name he'd added to his already blood-soaked ledger... But not even Nat was aware of the full extent of his night terrors. The more recent ones where he was responsible for the death of her, and Stark and goddamned Captain America. Thor and Banner, they were indestructible, sure, but Fury, Hill, Coulson...everyone else was dead by his own hand. Because they trusted him to watch their backs, even though he was weak.

 

The thought of Coulson hurt the most, but then he was the one true casualty in all of this. Clint  _was_  responsible for that one, wasn't he? Whilst he may not have held the blade that'd ripped Phil's life from his body, he  _had_  been the one to warn Loki that the easily overlooked man in the perfectly tailored black suit would be his biggest roadblock in getting the Hulk to take down the Helicarrier...

 

So yeah, Clint wasn't okay and he certainly wasn't dealing. Probably never would, if he was being honest with himself. But he could play a role, and he was  _good at it_.

 

Yet all of that came crumbling down around him the moment he felt his attacker's voice inside his head.

_Just a taste, a small taste... He won't know; I won't tell Him... Just a taste..._

Clint could, to a certain extent, ignore the fresh blood dripping from the wraith-like creature's teeth, even though his stomach protested weakly at the knowledge that it was his own flesh and blood coating that almost translucent creature's skin. He could even ignore the loss of feeling to the whole right side of his body as her clawed fingers probed and gouged at the bite wound to his shoulder, telling himself that it was the shock, blood loss, or maybe even some type of venom. 

 

What he couldn't ignore, however, and what had the assassin blindly scrabbling for his knife with his left arm -  _where was it? He'd dropped it somewhere!_  - was the voice, _the filth_ , inside his brain that chilled the blood inside his veins and made him want to scream until his throat bled.  _Not again, not again, not again..._

 

Giving up on his hopeless search for a weapon, Clint resorted to clawing viciously at the wraith's other hand where her ice-cold fingers gripped the side of his head, but, despite his best efforts, her hand wouldn't budge and the words wouldn't stop. With an anguished cry, Clint tore the screeching hearing aid out of his ear and couldn't help the weak sob of despair as the voice continued, on and on, clear as day, inside his head. 

 

_Just a taste, a small taste... He won't know; I won't tell Him... Just a taste..._

 

With reckless abandon, aiming to cause as much damage as possible, Clint lashed out with everything he had. Fingers clawed at eyes and teeth and flesh and bone as his only working leg kicked and thrashed. He didn't care that he was shifting them both closer to the edge of the building or that his blows had little to no effect. He just needed to do something,  _anything,_ to stop the litany of crazy ramblings that were drilling their way into the soft tissue of his brain. " _Shut up_ , shut up,  **shut up!!** "

 

Almost like he'd hit a switch, the wraith sucked in a deep breath as if tasting the very air around them, the poison of her words pausing as she released her grip on his head. Clint all but collapsed in relief, ignoring the crack of his head as it hit the solid ground. The excess adrenaline coursing through his injured frame sent his body into a seizure of overloaded senses as he gasped and choked for air through the tight band of terror around his lungs.

 

The wraith, shifting as her black, dead eyes came into focus, chose to appraise the supine form of the downed assassin beneath her before smiling to reveal sharp, bloodstained teeth and a grey, forked tongue.

 

Catching Clint's eye to ensure he understood, the creature sent one last thought into his brain before she jumped to her feet with startling grace.

 

" _He is coming_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erm, so... Thoughts?

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued...
> 
> Just a teaser for the prequel to my earlier fic. I'd love to hear if you're interested in more? PTWS


End file.
